


Starlight

by 8LunaFortuna8



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cute, Cutesy, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, and it gets cold, and there was only one bed, cuddling for warmth, hes WARM boys, just fluff, ship shuts down, touch those muscles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8LunaFortuna8/pseuds/8LunaFortuna8
Summary: Due to an unmapped asteroid field, the Razor Crest takes too much damage and shuts down to do automatic repairs. But space is cold. Really cold. You and Din have to cuddle for warmth.Just a quick fluffy oneshot, enjoy.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Mando/reader, Mando/you, The Mandalorian/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 159





	Starlight

“Dank Farrik!” Mando cursed and pounded the console. After stressful navigation through an uncharted asteroid field, the ship’s main power cells had gone down. The cockpit was pitch black and Grogu warbled in the darkness. You reached down and rubbed Grogu’s wrinkly head. He always got a little uneasy when Mando cursed like he thought his dad was mad at him. But you knew better than that.   
“Sorry, kid,” Mando rumbled from the pilot’s seat. He sighed heavily through the modulator. “The primary power cells are going to be down a little while to repair themselves, so we’ll just have to make due.” You chewed the inside of your lip.   
“Does that mean life support is offline?” you asked nervously.   
“No, I can direct power from the backups for that. But it doesn’t fix our heating problem.”   
“Heating problem?” you continued tentatively.   
“Space is cold, and the backup only puts out enough power to sustain the life support systems. So it’s going to get very cold in here,” he said, rotating his chair to face you. You could only see the faint outline of his form from the ambient starlight through the windows in front of you. Even now, you realized that he was right—that pleasant hot air had stopped flowing from the vents mounted into the Crest’s walls, and your socked feet were already starting to get too chilly for comfort.   
Unlucky for you, you hadn’t had much time to get adjusted to life on the Crest. You’d met Mando on Tattoine on one of his many visits and agreed to babysit in exchange for seeing the galaxy. Of course, living on Tattoine meant you didn’t own any cold-weather clothes—after all, what would you need cold weather clothes for on a desert planet?   
Between the limits of your wardrobe and the impending chill of a dead ship drifting through space, things were about to get very uncomfortable. 

The first move Mando made was to retrieve any form of a blanket or woven fiber on the ship, like spare clothes and large pieces of worn muslin he used for different reasons around the ship (i.e. to cover the “scary” faces of the carbon frozen prey—Grogu would get scared of their unnatural forms in the dark). Next, the bounty hunter worked to seal off the cockpit from the rest of the ship, sealing the trapdoor as tightly as he could with whatever he could find. He explained it would help keep in what heat they had left, especially with the body heat produced by the two of you and Grogu in a smaller space. After that, he straightened up and glanced between you and Grogu, who cooed at his dada.   
The Mandalorian sighed through his helmet. And then started taking off his armor. You frowned at him in the dimness. “Umm… the point is to stay warm, right? Thus, layers?” you said, watching him unbuckle buckles and unlatch latches. He nodded the helmet.   
“I’m worried about him being warm enough. The tech under my armor has a heater that runs on battery, so he’s getting that. You and me will be on our own,” he replied. As he lowered the heavy Beskar to the floor, you could see what he meant; under each piece of the silvery armor were the coil-covered units they attached to, and with a click on his vambrace, the coils started to glow faintly.   
After shimmying out of all the pieces of coil lined under-armor, Mando tucked them into the floating white pram that Grogu was peeking out of. He gurgled as his father tucked the heating units under all the blankets and softness in the pram so it became a beacon of heat. After the little one was all tucked into his warm little paradise, Mando closed the shades on the pram to keep the heat in and sank down to where you were sitting on the floor, wrapped in as many muslin sheets as you could fit around yourself without suffocating yourself. Now just wearing his underclothes, the Mandalorian snagged a dark garment from the floor and in seconds he was slipping it over your head, guiding your arms into the sleeves in the dark. It was some sweater of his you’d never seen, something darkly colored and obscenely soft against your skin, especially after being cuddled up in the scratchy muslin.  
He picked up another piece of clothing, another sweater of his that you had seen before—you had asked to borrow it once when you were desperately cold and you could remember who thin and threadbare it was. You could feel an ache in your jaw already from trying to keep your teeth from chattering but it was the last thing you wanted to do. After all, how dare you let him know you were still cold after he’d given you the superior sweater? So you clamped your teeth shut tightly and sat there beside him against the hull of the ship.

You can’t be sure how much time went by. You alternated between watching the dark curve of his shiny helmet out of the corner of your eye and staring at the cold starlight through the windows above you. Mando and you weren’t touching, not even a little bit, but your skin itched to be touched, and not just because you were freezing. You both sat there, in separate agonies, trying desperately to convince yourselves you were warm and that the power cells would come back on soon. He was the one who broke first.   
You might not have heard it had the ship had its power, but then again, it never would have happened with the power on. It was dead silent in the cockpit, the tension in the air coiled tight, and he made a little hissing noise through his helmet—faint, barely audible, before his teeth started to chatter. It was hard at first to distinguish what that sound was because it was run through the helmet’s filter, but when he made the noise you looked over at him and realized he’d been faintly shaking this whole time.   
You started shaking at seeing how cold he was, realizing just how cold you were, and then you eased the tension on your jaw and your teeth started chattering too, your jaw ache from the pressure it had taken to keep them still. The helmet turned to look at you with this new development, the ice-cold light of those distant white stars reflecting faintly in the black “T” shape of his visor.   
Without a word, you squirmed over the last foot of space between you and climbed on top of him, shoving your frozen hands under his shirt and clinging to his shoulder blades. He gasped a little at the sensation of your cold hands but once he’d adjusted he pulled you impossibly close without another second's hesitation. If you thought you were close when you’d first straddled him, you were wrong, because now he was fitting you into him, shoving your head into the crook of his neck, desperate for the heat your hot breath could offer. He likewise wiggled his huge gloved hands just beneath the hem of your shirt but the shock of his hands wasn’t nearly as bad as it must have been for him.   
You were both shaking violently, drinking in every ounce of warmth the other had. As he pulled you closer, your hands snaked higher on his back, running up his neck and finding the edge of the helmet where a bit of his hair was poking out. You’d seen it once or twice, sticking out from under the helmet—a gorgeous brown color. He usually cut it when it got long enough to protrude from the helmet but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. You shut your eyes, your eyelashes fluttering against his neck, and breathed him in. He smelled like metal, mostly, and cold, but underneath was a faint trace of the soap whose smell lingered in the tiny vacc-shower after he’d used it.   
You wiggled your face in the crook of his neck, thoroughly enjoying how his hot skin felt on your nose. As you started to warm up again, your hands lowered down his back and you traced the long, hard muscles of his back that were stretched taught from cold. He gave a particularly vicious shiver and yanked off both gloves, returning bare hands to your back. You cried out at his icy fingers and he huffed a little bit. Was he laughing at you?   
“Shut up,” you bit, wiggling your hips forward to move in closer. In that motion, you could feel…. a lot…. Going on beneath you. You looked up at him in surprise and the helmet jerked up so he must have been matching your gaze. He didn’t say anything for a moment but you guessed by how he was tensed he looked a little….well, sheepish. You softened your face a little bit, knowing that you shouldn’t say anything but you still needed to communicate it was okay.   
You stared at each other for a good minute, your eyes searching his visor for any hint of what he was thinking. You became suddenly hyperaware of his warm hands still resting on your lower back, just beneath the hem of your shirt. Instead of holding his unreadable gaze any longer, you ran your hands back under his shirt, this time the front, your palms running up his chest and finding purchase just over his rapidly thumping heart.   
You leaned back into him and he tightened his embrace gratefully, his breathing relaxing a little more as you settled back in. 

You had both fallen into a place between sleep and wakefulness when the lights blinked back on. By that time, you’d both slid down to the floor, limbs tangled and heartbeats matching pace. You glanced up at the stark light in the cockpit and then back at the helmet underneath you. You wouldn’t even be sure he was awake aside from the fact he jumped when the lights came on. You stared at that blank helmet and the helmet stared at you. The only sign you got that he was even looking at you was the upward tick in his heartrate. Blinking, you laid back down into him, trying to get your message across. Don’t get up. Stay.   
Luckily, he read you loud and clear.


End file.
